


Sweetrolls and Sunshine

by VeannaBlue



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Skyrim
Genre: Breton Altmer fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 19:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10928304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeannaBlue/pseuds/VeannaBlue
Summary: The Dragonborn thinks Aicantar spends too much time inside. Aicantar has other ideas, but little choice. Picnics can't be all that dangerous, right?





	1. The invitation

Aicantar leaned over the alchemy table, his brow furrowed and his eyes steeled with concentration. Tendrils of steam rose to caress his face and he swept them away absentmindedly with one hand while continuing to add various ingredients with the other. A pinch of void salts, two of vampire dust, the deep purple petal of a Deathbell. The potion bubbled and gurgled as he worked, grinding and stirring until it turned a vibrant shade of green and it's odourless steam became acidic and strong. 

"Just one more ingredient," He murmured to himself, carefully raising a small vial filled with dark red liquid. He uncorked it with a slightly trembling hand, took a deep breath and slowly tilted the vial over the bubbling potion, counting out one drop...two drops...

"Hello Aicantar!"

The young Altmer jumped in surprise, the glass vial, secured so gingerly between his fingertips, slipped from his grasp, emptying it's entire contents into the green liquid below. 

"No!" 

He frantically tried to scoop it out but it was too late. The potion sizzled, turned a murky grey and then erupted in a burst of flames, that extinguished as quickly as it started, leaving behind what looked like a slimy pile of ashes in the scorched stone bowl. 

"You fool!" He seethed. "That was dragon's blood, do you have any idea how much I had to pay to get that!" He whirled around to confront the intruder and his anger quickly froze on the tip of his tongue when he found himself face to face with a very sheepish looking Dragonborn.

"I am so sorry, Aicantar! I didn't mean to surprise you." 

"M-Miss Charcel...I'm sorry, I-I didn't realise it was you." He stammered, a blush rushing across his cheeks. "I thought you were one of the guards. T-they are always interrupting my experiments."

"Did you say it was dragon's blood? I promise I will get you more, as much as you need." A tentative smile broke her chagrin and she glanced at him from beneath her lashes. "Buckets of the stuff if you like."

"Uh, that is very generous of you, but not necessary. I wouldn't want you to be in any danger on my account."

"Don't be silly," she assured him. "It's my fault you spilled it, and I'm killing dragons anyway. Besides, danger is my middle name."

"Really?"

"Well, no, it's Ariessa, but danger would be much more impressive."

"But you just said?"

Ysabeau bit her lower lip to stifle a giggle. "It was a joke, Aicantar."

"Oh," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly. 

Ysabeau stepped next to him, her shoulder brushing against his arm as she leaned forward to peer into the bowl, crinkling her nose at the smell. "What were you trying to make?"

"J-just experimenting," Aicantar answered, nervously stepping to the other side of the alchemy table. "I, um, wanted to invent a sort of...spider repellent for my Uncle. He really doesn't like them, and there seems to be a lot in the ruins he studies."

"That is really thoughtful of you," Ysabeau said, smiling at him. "Let me know if you succeed, I have a friend who would give his sword arm for a repellent that would keep the spiders away." She tentatively poked at the ashes, the expression on her face a mixture of disgust and curiosity. "Personally, spiders don't bother me too much, I can at least admire their web making abilities, but trolls -" A delicate shudder ran through her. "- trolls are a species that are lacking in any talent whatsoever, except for creeping me out. Horrid things they are." 

 

Aicantar nodded in silent agreement, his eyes watching her with a quizzical expression before darting away to look around the room, hoping to find some inspiration of what to say. "M-miss Charcel?"

"Aicantar, I keep telling you, you can call me Beau, or Ysabeau if you must hold on to some degree of formality." She winked at him, her blue eyes sparkling mischivously, and Aicantar's blush spread to the tips of his ears.

"Miss Ch...Y-Ysabeau," Aicantar said, quickly correcting himself at her arched look. "Were you here to see my uncle? Or...uh... the Justiciar?"

At the mention of Ondolemar it was Ysabeau's turn to blush, her bright smile quickly turning shy. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder as if she suspected the Thalmor might have materialised behind her without her being aware of it, but was met with nothing but empty space. Satisfied that they were alone she quickly composed herself, one of the few benefits of being raised by aristocracy, and turned back to Aicantar, her prior smile lighting up her face once again. "Actually, I was here to see you."

Aicantar looked dumbstruck for a moment, taken aback by her words, he just gaped at her. No one came to see him, ever. Except for maybe his uncle, and that was only when he needed his help with something to do with his work. Why would anyone, especially the Dragonborn, want to see him?

"Aicantar? Are you alright?" 

The touch of Ysabeau's hand on his arm made him jump back to his senses and he muttered an embarrassed apology. "I-I'm sorry, I'm happy to help with whatever you need. What can I do for you, Miss...Ysabeau."

The look of concern on the Breton's face softened and she shook her head, an indulgent smile playing on her lips. "I wanted to ask if you would like to join me on a picnic this afternoon? It's a truly glorious day outside, much too fine to be wasted inside studying. Sunny days in Skyrim are so rare, it seems almost a crime to not enjoy it while we have the opportunity. Don't you agree?"

"Uh, I guess...I couldn't really say. I-I've never been on a picnic before." 

The look of horror that crossed Ysabeau's face would have been comical if Aicantar wasn't so embarrassed. Her hand dramatically rushed to her chest and her wide eyes slowly blinked, as if not fully understanding what he had just said. "You've never been on a picnic?" She breathed, her tone hushed with disbelief.

Aicantar shuffled his feet nervously. "No, n-never. Uncle Calcelmo isn't exactly the picnic type person." He tried to give her what he thought was a reassuring smile, but it turned out to be more of a sad smirk. 

"My dear Aicantar, thank goodness I came by today! We must amend this travesty immediately. I simply cannot let you go by another day without knowing the pleasures of a picnic on a sunny day."  
She gestured to the nearby bench where a basket sat, white linen draped over the top and for the first time Aicantar took notice of the delightful smell drifting on the air. "I packed some ale, and cold meats, bread and cheese, oh and sweetrolls, they're my favourite." She added, her tongue subconsciously wetting her lips. 

Aicantar looked from the basket to the Breton and back again, indecision clear on his face.  
"I, um, I do have a lot of work to do..."He said uncertainly, his eyes moving to the alchemy table. "I really should keep working on my potion." 

Ysabeau took his hand in her own, fixing him with a doe eyed look and a pout on her lips, the sincerity of which was questionable since the corners of her mouth kept twitching to a smile.  
"Please come on a picnic with me, Aicantar." A cheeky grin broke through the pout and she gently swung their linked hands. "Pretty please?" 

The last chain of the scholar's resistance broke. "I-I guess I can go out, at least for a little while."

"Yay! We are going to have so much fun, I promise." She twirled around to grab the picnic basket, releasing his hand for a moment before seizing it again with a gentle squeeze.

With a last look at his ill fated experiment Aicantar allowed the Dragonborn to lead him out of the keep, only half listening to her excited chatter, the other half wondering what on Nirn he had gotten himself into.


	2. The Picnic

She hadn't exaggerated when she said it was a beautiful day, high above the surrounding mountains the sky was a brilliant blue, lightly dotted with fluffy white clouds and the occasional hawk soaring overheard. The warm weather had drawn everyone outside and the city was alive with it's residents enjoying the warmth of the day.

The pair strolled through the sunlit streets, Aicantar shadowing Ysabeau closely while she cheerfully greeted the people they passed, pausing occasionally to comment on a shopkeeper's wares, a woman's new dress or to give a gold piece to a grateful beggar. 

Before he knew it they had reached the large brass gates that loomed over the market place and he was being led directly towards them. He snatched his hand away from hers like he had been burned and Ysabeau stopped to turn to look at him, a confused look on her face. "What's wrong?"  
"We aren't going, uh, outside, are we?" he asked, leaning closer to her so no one else could over hear him. 

"Of course we are silly. Where did you think we would have a picnic? On the steps of the temple of Dibella?" She grinned at her own ridiculous suggestion. "I hate to break it to you but I'm not exactly welcome there after the, um, statue incident." 

"Statue incident?" He asked, cocking his head curiously, the gates momentarily forgotten.  
She nodded, raking her fingers through her pale blonde hair. "I may have defiled one of the statues."

"Oh." Aicantar thought it best not to elaborate on that story, adding it to the list of strange stories he had heard about the Breton. "Can't we find somewhere inside the city walls, w-where it's safe?"  
"It's a picnic Aicantar. Picnics have to be held on grass, it's like, a picnic rule, we can't have it on stone. A picnic on stone is just...eating lunch on rocks, hardly a picnic at all."

"But, what if we get attacked by a d-dragon?"

Ysabeau bit her lower lip in thought, trying to think of the best way to put her companion at ease. She didn't think telling him that she would just shout the dragon out of the sky would have the desired effect on him, even if it did mean she could replaced the lost blood she owed him. "What if we stay within eyesight of the city? We don't have to go far, that way if anything does happen we can get back behind the walls faster than a mage on a new spell tome."  
"Ok, as long as we, uh, stay close to the city."

"Thank you for trusting me, I know just the spot!" She stretched up on her toes, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, secretly delighted with the resulting blush and shy smile that he tried to hide.   
A nearby guard snickered, but Aicantar ignored him. Maybe being hauled around by the Dragonborn wasn't such a bad thing after all.

They exited the city and made their way down the path that led past the stables and the mines, continuing over the bridge they turned right to a patch of heather and grass that, as she had promised, overlooked the city. 

Aicantar stared in awe at the view, "wow."

From where they had stopped, overlooking the city from across the river, Markarth stood proud and strong, seemingly almost as natural as the surrounding landscape that cradled it. The coursing river and nearby waterfall mixed with the symphony of bird song and the distant sounds of the miners axes hitting stone, coming together to create a euphony that echoed around them, adding to the enchanting atmosphere.

Ysabeau put down her basket and followed his gaze, smiling at his captivation. "It's beautiful, isn't it? I come out here to read sometimes if I need to get away for a bit. So much around us, but still so peaceful." 

"You like to read?" He asked, turning from the view and raising his eyebrows in surprise and interest. 

A look of mock offense crossed Ysabeau's face. "Of course I read!" She retaliated, flicking her hair in indignation. "Goodness Aicantar, we really need to work on your tact." 

In his defense, the scholar looked suitably abashed as he made his apologies. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that your education was lacking, it's just...you didn't strike me as the type of person who likes to read."

"I'll have you know, I am quite the book collector," she said, taking out a butter coloured blanket from the basket and spreading it over the ground. She smoothed out the wrinkles and settled on her knees, patting the blanket beside her in a silent peace offer. Aicantar smiled and joined her, his long legs folding beneath him. Once he was settled Ysabeau continued, unpacking a variety of food while she spoke. "My housecarl, Argis, thinks I'm a hoarder, but I'm of the belief that you can never have too many books, even if they are spilling from every chest and shelf in the house."

Aicantar chuckled, surprising himself with how easy the sound came. "I agree with you, there is nothing like a room full of books, so much knowledge at your fingertips. T-the guards in the keep think it's a waste of time."

She nodded, her fingers working to uncork a bottle of ale. "On the upside, more books for us." The cork came free with a pop and she handed the bottle to him with a triumphant smile., quickly setting to work on one for herself. 

He took a tentative sip, then another, the easy conversation and drink making him feel braver. "How do you know so many people?" He asked curiously.

Ysabeau looked thoughtful for a moment, bringing her own bottle to her lips before answering. "On one side of the coin, I need to know people for my line of work. Jobs, knowledge, gold...it's all obtained through connections. And on the other side, friends are what life is all about." She gave his hand a squeeze. "You could be the most powerful person in all of Tamriel, yet without friends, you would be the most miserable. Life is too short to not be happy."

"That's a very wise outlook to have on life, I think I...I mean if you didn't mind...will have to write that down when I get back."

"I do have my moments, they are few and far between, but I have them." She let out a laugh, the sound soft and warm and Aicantar felt some of the nerves leave his body.


	3. The Friend

What Ysabeau produced from the basket was enough for a veritable feast in comparison to the modest meals Aicantar shared with his Uncle, who preferred a bland table fitting to his own taste, and he willingly went along with her enticement for him to try everything that was on offer, from venison crusted with spices and rich cheeses to lavender tarts, candied fruit and sweetrolls.

"This is delicious," he exclaimed, popping another piece of candied fruit into his mouth. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

Ysabeau beamed at him, clearly pleased with his enjoyment, but this quickly folded into an embarrassed sheepish grin. "I would love to say that I made everything but I'm afraid cooking isn't one of my talents. I, uh, bribed the chef in Understone Keep." 

"Whether it was your hands or your silver tongue that contributed to the food, I thank you." Aicantar replied playfully. "I don't have the skill to do either, so either way I am very impressed."

"You are much too kind," she said with a laugh, passing him a bottle of ale. "but, you're talents are the ones I am envious of, that dwarven spider you are working on is brilliant, to be able to get such complicated Dwemer technology working and under your control like that is brilliant. You're Uncle must be so proud of you."

A shadow of sadness settled across Aicantar's face and he fumbled with the bottle of ale, twisting it around in his hands before opening it and taking a slow drink. "I don't know about that. To be honest, I don't think he has ever taken any interest in anything I do, it sometimes feels like I'm invisible. I-I sometimes wonder if he would care, or even notice if I wasn't there." He looked up when he felt Ysabeau take one of his hands in her own and give it a comforting squeeze, her somber expression matching his own. 

"I'm really sorry he makes you feel that way," she said softly, shifting closer to him. "My mother was much the same way. Ridiculously self absorbed and never pleased with anything I did."

"How did you cope with it?"

"I ran away to be an adventurer."

"I don't think that is an option for me," Aicantar laughed, some of his previous joviality lightening his face once more. 

"Nonsense, I am sure that under your studious exterior beats the heart of an adventurer," Ysabeau assured him with a mischevous twinkle in her eyes. "Should we put it to the test?"

"A-a test? I really don't think that would be necessary, I am one hundred percent sure that I am not an adventurer and have no desire to be one, n-not that there is anything wrong with being an adventurer of course...but I am much happier with my experiments...this picnic is adventure enough for me, I-I promise you."

Short of an indulgent smile, Ysabeau ignored his rambling, turning her gaze instead to the sky. "It really is a glorious day, he will love it, and so will you."

"He?" A lump of jealousy settled in Aicantar's stomach, momentarily quietening his recent panic, as the thought of the Thalmor Commander joining their picnic popped unwanted into his mind. He may not have wanted to go on it originally, but now that he was here and enjoying himself he felt strangely possessive of this time with his friend.  
Ysabeau smiled at him, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil.

"A friend of mine, Durnvheir. He doesn't get out nearly as much as he should and I would love to introduce you."

"Uh, really? Does he live in Markarth?"

"Not exactly. I will explain everything but first, you're a scholar right? with a possible dash of adventurer within?"

"I'm not as certain as you about the adventurer bit but, Yes?"

"Dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge?"

"I'm not sure I like where this is going."

Ysabeau laughed and climbed to her feet, brushing sweetroll crumbs off of her skirt before offering him her hand. "Trust me." 

He accepted her help with a wary look full of sceptiscism. "You say that a lot."

"Do I?" She grinned, slowly backing away from the blanket. "I hadn't noticed." She winked and turned away from him, planted her feet, filled her lungs with a centering breath and shouted.

"DURN-EHVIIR!"

A blast of light flared up before her and a dragon materialised within it, purple flames licking it's grotesque body as it took on a corporeal form. A booming voice sounded, sending tangible vibrations through the mortals before him, "Greetings Qahnaarin, I come to you in your time of need, as promised, my claws are ready to render the flesh of your foes."

"Greetings Durnehviir! Your claws are not needed today my friend, I have called you to this plane for your pleasure, so you can enjoy the sun and sky of Tamriel. Before you do though I would like to introduce you to someone. This is Aicantar, he is a scholar and conjurer. Aicantar, this is Durnehviir."

The creature turned his great head towards the mer trembling behind the Dragonborn. "Greetings, fahdon of the Dovahkiin."

"G-greetings," Aicantar stammered out, trembling under the dragon's steady gaze. Durnevhiir emanated ancient power, an otherworldly aura unlike anything he had felt before, made all the more terrifying by his rotting body that dripped and oozed.

The unexpected touch of Ysabeau's hand on his arm in reassurance, though it made him jump in surprise at first, was the only thing keeping him rooted in place instead of running back to the safety of the cities gates.

"I am pleased to meet a Kro, a mortal interested in the arts of Lah. So few of my kin respect the power of magicka, beyond their Thu'um, of course."

"I-it's a pleasure to make your aquaintance." Aicantar replied, his dry mouth moving of it's own accord, driven by years of well bred manners and expectations.  
Between them an uncomfortable silence stretched, the two staring at one another, one filled with fear, the other with bored amusement. 

Ysabeau watched the interaction with a reined in smile, she had half expected Aicantar to bolt or faint, seeing him standing his ground, albeit swaying slightly, filled her with pride for her friend. Not wanting to push Aicantar's steely nerves too far she broke the silence, her words breaking through the nervous tension. "I won't keep you any longer Durnevhiir, the skies are calling you, enjoy your freedom."

"Kogaan, Qahnaarin, thank you." The tattered wings began to beat, each strike more powerful than the last, sending the clothes of the mortals whipping around their bodies until his body was lifted off the ground. Ysabeau's and Aicantar's eyes followed his gradual ascent, higher and higher until he was a mere dot amongst the blue. 

"You j-just summoned a dragon." Aicantar said in an awed hush.

The look of fondness Ysabeau cast up at the beast added yet another layer of adsurdity to the whole situation.

"I did, it's a terribly long story," she answered, linking her arm in his and turning them both back towards the picnic blanket. "But in short, Durnehviir was cursed to spend eternity in the soul cairn, I defeated him and we have a deal that I will summon him to this plane and in return he will come to my aid when I need it. He has saved my life multiple times. I like to give him a break from that horrid place on nice days like this."

A gentle shiver ran through her body at the thought of the soul cairn. The memories like a mist, spreading through her mind, tendrils reaching out to remind her of the chilling terror she experienced there. The plane of the dead was one of two places that still haunted her, no matter how much she tried to forget. The souls of those trapped, lost and afraid, staring at her with empty eyes or open hostility. Doomed to stay in their lifeless prison forever. She hadn't been able to bring herself to use a soul gem ever since returning, not even on lesser animals. The thought of sending any creature to that dreadful place was enough to turn her stomach. 

With a small shake of her head she pushed the memories to the back of her mind and imagined wrapping herself in the pleasures of the present like a shroud that muted the negativity and brought only comfort and joy. She squeezed Aicantar's arm, grateful for his grounding presence, before freeing their linked arms and settling back down on the blanket. 

Rummaging through the basket she first passed Aicantar a fresh bottle of ale then opened another for herself. Uncorking it she took a sip then set it down, carefully making sure it was stable before she laid back, stretching her arms behind her head. She absent mindedly watched the sillhouette soar through the sky. 

"I wonder if he eats sweet rolls? Do you think undead dragons eat? I've never thought to ask him."

Aicantar turned an incredulous gaze to the Breton laying next to him. "You just summoned a dragon and you're questioning whether or not it eats cake?"  
"Just because he is an undead dragon it doesn't mean he can't enjoy small indulgences, Aicantar."

Silence stretched between them, Aicantar's face a mixture of confusion, disbelief and seriousness as he tried to sputter out a reply that even if undead dragons did eat that the only logical conclusion would be that they were carnivores as they would have been originally...before being undead. It was the last three words that were his undoing and he burst into laughter, Ysabeau quickly following suit until the pair were laughing hysterically. Not the kind of laugh that follows a clever joke, but the laughter of the ridiculousness. The giggles that overtake you when you know the cause of your laughter isn't particularly funny but it hits your sense of humour in just the right way until it overwhelms you and breathing becomes a difficulty, and tears spring from your eyes. 

By the time they regained some control their previously cool ales had already begun to warm, gasping for breath and wiping away the dampness on her cheeks Ysabeau picked up each bottle in turn and gave them a short, quick blast of frost magic, chilling the liquid immediately and leaving small ice crystals clinging to the glass.  
"That's a really good trick," Aicantar said, taking an appreciative swig of drink. With his head back his eyes caught sight of the sky and the ale was slowly brought away from his lips. 

"Ysabeau, how many dragons did you summon?"

"Just one, why?"

Aicantar's face blanched. "There are two now!"


	4. The Interloper

"What?!" She bolted up, her eyes following the direction Aicantar was staring until she saw them, two dark silhouettes circling each other, each sizing up their opponent, searching for a weakness. Durnehviir attacked first, the sky erupting in flame.

"There are two dragons! You promised no dragons!"

"I'm sorry Aicantar, clairvoyance isn't exactly my greatest strength." 

She jumped to her feet, quickly followed by Aicantar, and magic erupted from her palms in a flurry of ice and snow as she shot him a confident smile. "Look on the bright side, at least I can replace the spilled blood I owe you."

"Blood?! I don't care about the blood, I care about not being eaten!"

"Just stay behind the rocks and try not to be conspicuous, if you run you will only draw it's attention. This won't take long, it's only a little one."

"Little? Little?! That thing is as large as the keep!" 

Aicantar's panicked cries fell on deaf ears, the Breton's attention concentrated solely on the battle above them and the magic building in her hands.  
At their height the dragons were a blur of green and brown, a mass of leather and scales that sent a cacophony of roars and snarls that filled the sky like thunder as they clashed together, attacking with tooth and claw to gain the upper hand. 

Ysabeau's eyes followed the deadly dance trying to find a pattern to the attacks so she could anticipate the interlopers next move, all the while silently willing Durnvheir to bring the fight closer, in range of her magic and shouts.  
A determined smile broke her serious countenance when Durnvheir banked left, narrowly avoiding the snap of the other's jaws, and dived towards the earth, his tattered wings tucked into his side to hasten his descent. 

The brown dragon foolishly followed, having no idea what awaited him as soon as he was in reach. 

Ice sparkled on Ysabeau's fingertips and a shout burned in her throat, magic and words drawn and strained as an archer's bow waiting to be loosed.  
Aicantar's eyes were wide with terror as the scene unfolded before him. He felt useless pressed against the rock face, stunned, he wanted to help but wanted to flee. He cursed the Dragonborn under his breath for dragging him out here, cursed her for manipulating him and cursed her for standing in the open while two dragons plummeted towards her small form. 

Just when he was sure that she was going to be crushed, Durnvheir pulled up and twisted his body, shooting back upwards towards the clouds. His pursuer, suddenly realising his mistake tried to follow his strategy but it was too late. As soon as Durnvheir was clear the Dragonborn released her pent up power and the furious dragon collided with a blizzard of frost and ice and the force of a shout that sent blue flames licking and swirling around it's body. 

The dragon hit the ground with a crash, it's momentum sending it careening across the ground, the force of it's impact sending dirt and rocks flying through the air. Aicantar's arms flew up to shield his face from the debris but he couldn't tear his eyes away for long. 

Ysabeau shouted again, "JOOR ZAH FRUL!" and the dragon writhed in pain and fury, snaking his long head towards her, trying to sink his dripping teeth into her soft flesh.  
She met his attack with one of her own, sending an ice spike into the tough hide of his shoulder, then another and another, constantly dancing out of the deadly reach of it's jaws, or the powerful swing of it's tail, while Durnvheir continued to attack with flames from above.

And then, as if in slow motion, the unthinkable happened. A tangle of heather caught around Ysabeau's boot and with a surprised cry she was sent sprawling to the ground. She struggled to regain her feet but a sharp pain shot through her ankle, dropping her once again.

"Dark moons and dull claws," she growled, wincing with each new attempt to stand. 

A sinister grin spread across the dragon's maw,and the sound of what could only have been a laugh reverberated through her bones, sending a chill of fear down her spine. She could see herself reflected in the cold depths of his eyes, helpless and struggling like the wounded prey she was. 

Durnvheir's enraged cries filled her ears. She tried to call out to him, to tell him to leave her and get Aicantar back to the safety of the city but the smoke that filled the air strangled her voice, making it impossible to be heard over the dragons and rushing waterfall.

The dragon stalked towards her, reveling in his victory. His hot, heavy breath engulfed her, sweeping over her skin, wrapping her in heat and smoke that burned her eyes and lungs and clawed it's way into her very essence until it was all she could feel. 

Realising her pleas were in vain she took a deep breath, trying to ignore the protesting of her aggravated throat and shouted "FUS RO DAH!"

The shout was faint, weakened by the assault on her throat by the ash filled air but it succeeded in knocking the dragon back and buying Ysabeau precious seconds.  
She desperately cast a healing spell in her left hand, focusing it on her injured ankle and praying to the Nine that it would be enough. Sky-forged steel sang as she drew her sword and staggered to her feet, faint from pain and swaying dangerously but determined to meet death head on. If she was going to die today, she would die fighting.

The dragon lunged with determination and finality, all semblance of savouring the moment forgotten, the only thing coarsing through his mind was to devour the dragonborn, eat her tender flesh and drink down her blood. 

Aicantar watched from his place behind the rocks in horror. Everything seemed to be happening so fast, but in painful detail. The dragons fighting, Ysabeau falling, her cry of pain, the dragon advancing on her...

Weeks later Aicantar would lay in bed and run though this day and try and pinpoint the exact second he found the bravery to fight a dragon, and it would always come back to that one moment. Her cry of pain. His friend was hurt and needed help. She needed him. 

All sense of personal safety evaporated and he stepped away from his hiding place and cast Thunderbolt on the dragon. The effect was immediate. Under a new, unexpected attack the dragon turned away from his prey, raging against the lightning coursing through his body and fighting against the convulsions it was sending his muscles into. With a new target in mind he sent an inferno of flame in Aicantar's direction, narrowly missing the mage who quickly cast another spell.  
Seizing the opportunity that Aicantar provided, Durnvheir landed from the sky and began attacking with renewed vigor. Biting at the living dragon's wings, tearing the leather like skin, and raking his claws at his opponent's neck and eyes. 

Aicantar cast wave after wave of lightning, the constant assault of electricity was sapping the dragon's strength, it's attacks became less and less targeted, some of which were aimed at nothing but thin air as it lost sense and descended into a frenzy of pain, rage and exhaustion. 

At first Ysabeau watched in disbelief and admiration, completely blown away by this unexpected joining of forces, then she hastened to do a proper job of healing her ankle and took off sprinting past Durnvheir, the weakening dragon and Aicantar.

"Ysabeau! Dragonborn! Where are you going?"

"Repaying a debt," she threw over her shoulder, "just don't kill it, keep it weakened, it's no good to me dead!"

"I'll like it alot better when it's dead," Aicantar mumbled through clenched teeth, sending another wave of Thunderbolt through the creature.

Ysabeau dropped to her knees at the picnic basket and upended the contents, sending cakes and delicacies sprawling across the blanket. She pawed through the pile, tossing items aside in her hurry.

"Come on, come on, I know there is one here somewhere."

Finally, her hands seized on a jar of sugared snowberries. "Aha, you'll do!" A quick twist of her wrist had the lid unscrewed and the berries bouncing away along the ground. 

"Aicantar, I found one!"

"Found what?!"

With the now empty jar in hand she raced back to the dragon's side, carefully avoiding the feeble attacks it threw her way. Using her sword she made a small cut, the blade easily slicing through the soft underbelly, and positioned the jar beneath the wound, catching the flow of hot blood. When the jar was filled to the brim, she secured the lid and gave a silent nod to Aicantar. The next casting of Thunderbolt was much more powerful than the last and the dragon was killed at last. 

Aicantar watched the dragon's soul be absorbed with captivated fascination and made a mental note to ask Ysabeau what the experience was like when they were in more normal circumstances. 

"Your dragon blood as promised kind sir," Ysabeau said, offering him the jar of blood with a dramatic bow. "Thank you for saving my life. That wouldn't have been nearly as much fun if I were dead."

"Fun? We almost got killed by a dragon and you call that fun?"

"Incredibly so. We fought a formidable foe and survived." She stepped closer to him and placed her palm flat on his chest. "The way your heart pounds and adrenaline rushes through you, you can't deny it's exhilarating, a rush second to no other." 

Staring into her sparkling eyes and flushed face he tried to form an argument, something to counteract the insanity she was speaking, his mouth moved and he willed the words to come, but no matter how hard he tried, he stayed silent. She was right, it was fun. For just this once to leave behind his sensibilities, be reckless and flirt with danger, it was a rush that he had never before experienced.

Later, long after the sun had lost it's warmth and the shadows had become long and grey, Aicantar, with the Dragonborn's arms around him in a farewell hug, decided that some things were worth leaving his experiments for, especially picnics.


End file.
